imPerfection
by TheMortalShadows
Summary: He had always hated imperfection. It was like being broken but not having the correct parts to be pieced together properly. Like humans. But he wasn't simply human, was he? (Is there a genre on here for 'No freaking clue?)


**ANOTHER OC STORY. You won't understand this if you're not in my rp with jillessa and silverj. **

**Finally got to writing. the last one with Quinn was made of my characters and Jillessa's, this time, it's my characters and SilverJem's.**

**I COMPLETELY SCREWED UP THE TIMELINE OF THINGS...and I completely made up over half the dialogue...but oh well...it gets the general point across...Sorry if I slaughtered the characters. I know that many things are out of order...AND I LEFT SOO MUCH STUFF OUT...SORRYYYRYRYRYRYRYRYTRTRRRYRYTRYTTRTRY **

**Cole is mine. So's Evande, though I hardly use him/mention him.**

**Steff, Loki and Mason are SilverJem5's. (I hardly mention Layla too)**

**~~ooo~~**

He had always hated imperfection.

It was like being broken but not having the correct parts to be pieced together properly.

Like humans.

But he wasn't simply human, was he? _Shadowhunters_: offspring of human and angels and, though tainted by the blood of mortals, he prided himself in having at least a little of the sweet immortality flowing through his veins. He imagined angels as whole beings. Pure. And though he was anything but that, he always likened himself more with them than the mere mundanes that walked the street.

Now, demons were just as fascinating. They were strong, viscous, terrifying. Powerful.

But he wasn't sure what made them so different from angels.

**~~ooo~~**

By the time he had settled into the Institute, Cole was certain of three things.

One: there were three types of people in the world; the ones that were the guns, the ones that have the gun and the ones that have the gun behind their back. He was sure he was the second one, after all, he never flaunted what he had. Or so his arrogant mindset convinced himself of his identity.

Two: He had the power of the world in his hands. He knew all the secrets, the way of manipulation, and he was sure he saw things in a different way than everyone else. And, in the end, that was what made him special. Being_ different._

Three: Mason was a bitch.

Of course, he already knew the last one, but he liked to remind himself of that fact. Quite often, Cole supposed. But he was also grateful. Grateful that he had given him reason to keep his senses sharp and wits keen, though he quickly tired of walking on eggshells trying to avoid Mason's accusations. Grateful that he had been taught to never show anything. Never act the way he wanted around him. Cole learned that a senior opponent offered him a chance to learn.

What that also meant was that he could challenge and win.

Which was more enticing than all the learning and lessons Mason would subconsciously teach in his mere behaviour but Cole soon found both benefits equally important. But to him, if you didn't win, then there was no point.

If you didn't win, then you were as good as dead.

**~~ooo~~**

Cole found that wits were more powerful than daggers or swords.

They were smarter ways to conquer.

Better.

Faster.

Cleaner.

He did hate the smell of blood.

**~~ooo~~**

Cuts.

A row of them on his arm where the demon had grabbed his wrist and latched spines into his skin. Ripping away, he ignored the pain. It was just a demon hunt and physical pain was hardly a hindrance. They were shallow, anyway, and he finished off the demon with simple ease, wielding a seraph blade and a row of daggers he often kept with him in case of emergencies.

"What happened?" Someone had asked as if he was meant to be invincible. After all, he talked as if he were.

But they were looking at the cuts and he grew to hate any sign of weakness, flaws, or imperfections. He grew accustomed to covering any cut with a jacket, any problem with an excuse and any true emotion with a mask. When you were true, he also learned, you were weak and susceptible to forces of manipulation.

He guessed that weakness was the overall basis of why he was who he was.

Cole didn't truly hate much, but he hated it when people asked him if he was okay. If something hurt. If he was going to be alright. People who didn't know him treated him like a broken doll as soon as he encountered some sort of problem and he hated it. Despised it, even. And he wanted people to understand that he didn't want any sympathy; the same sympathy they wear out on everyone as if it's a free paper that they hand out on the corner of the street.

And for once, he almost wanted someone to understand. An assistant was as far as he looked...though he knew that he would need someone special. They couldn't be merely ordinary. And he needed someone unassuming, easy to control. And perfect. Perfect to him, at least.

He first caught wind of a rumour in November.

Someone had spoken of a girl with a curse.

He had laughed, brushed it off, said they were crazy, but kept his interest piqued.

_A curse, _the person had said_, where she has to do anything you tell her too. I doubt it's true though._

He had a way of using people's weaknesses to his advantage.

So he listened to the rumours.

After all, all the rumours were true.

**~~ooo~~**

Cole wasn't surprised when Mason had openly insulted him.

Of course, to cover his anger, Cole had put on a sultry and flamboyant act of amusement, but it didn't matter.

Enemies at the academy.

Enemies at the Institute.

It didn't matter where they were.

They'd always try to get rid of each other.

**~~ooo~~**

Hands.

She roamed her hands over the spines of the books in the library.

She fidgeted.

Cole sighed.

The girl in the library couldn't be the one he had heard about. She was much too...dull. Skittish.

Then again, she was clearly nervous of something and looked dreadfully unassuming.

"Looking for something in particular?" He asked, sitting languidly in one of the chairs in the Institute. She hadn't noticed him at first and was quite startled at the awakening that there was someone else in the library with her.

She jumped, looking like a deer in headlights. "Oh...Nothing in particular."

Scanning her, he frowned. She slouched. Played with her hands. Played with her plait. Bit her lip. Good Raziel, she really was the nervous sort. She was practically the epitome of weakness. Deciding to see if she would warm up to him if he acted kind, he forced a smile. "Well, perhaps I could help you look for what you're looking for. I'd be more than happy to help." He tried not to look smug. "What are you looking for?"

If there was anything she saw in her eyes, it was suspicion. And fear, but that was a given. "It's nothing, just some research for my studies." She said, moving away. He didn't blame her. He did have a bad reputation around and he wouldn't be surprised if she already knew him.

But she didn't and that was when he knew that her habitual fear had to be because of the rumoured curse.

Toying with her in the library had displeased her, no doubt, but he felt accomplished.

She really was perfect.

A pawn.

A pawn in a match between him and Mason for power.

And he enjoyed playing games.

**~~ooo~~**

Cole hardly swore.

Though he did swear at some points in seething anger, he regarded needless cursing as stupid vulgarity.

And someone of his inherited status, or so his remaining distant family said, should never resort to cheap uses of vulgarity.

So he started to hate anything that wasn't clever or anything that was beneath him.

Cursing.

Laziness.

Messy violence.

The sorts.

**~~ooo~~**

It had started out as small things first.

Steff would quirk in a way he wouldn't like, or say something out of line and he'd lash out. Not immensely, of course. In fact, he never hit her. But he pinched her in places where it wouldn't show. And held her wrist too tightly until he knew that it might bruise but it would definitely hurt. He found it stupid that people were so influenced by physical pain when it was just a psychological thing that could be suppressed.

But he enjoyed annoying her in small ways till she'd be the one to snap and he'd have real reason to be mad.

He almost felt bad when she had that signature 'deer in headlights' look, but he soon grew to like it.

There were moments when Mason would be in the room and Cole would make her come sit with him and she'd have to obey. And he'd do things to annoy her but she couldn't do anything because Mason was there.

And if Mason suspected something, Cole knew that Steff knew it would be all over.

**~~ooo~~**

If there was anyone Cole genuinely liked at the Institute, it was Evande.

He was innocently maniacal and he found that charming.

And ironic.

But he couldn't help it.

He had a soft spot for kids.

**~~ooo~~**

"Stephanie, love. Do try to talk to Mason tonight. I want you to spy on some things for me." Cole said languidly, raising his eyes to look at the girl who he had forced to pretend as his 'girlfriend'.

"Don't call me '_love_'. Or Stephanie, for that matter."

"What did you say?" He asked, narrowing his eyes. She never talked back.

"...Call me Steff. I'd prefer that..."

"I'll call you whatever you'd like." He said in a clipped tone, annoyed. Steff was never really as bitter as she had become. Then again, he couldn't blame her. However, he knew she'd get over herself. She always did.

Of course, she'd slapped him once while he was dragging her down the hall by her wrist, but that had been because he had fallen into a particularly bad and annoying mood. He couldn't expect her not to lash out once in a while, but he knew he had to keep her under control.

Because in the end, that's what mattered most.

Control.

**~~ooo~~**

Going undercover had to be one of Cole's favourite things.

Able to be someone else for a day, or even an hour was enticing and lying was one of his hobbies.

Though he wasn't particularly a fan of Downworlders, he took to the towns easily to 'get a drink' and hopefully scope out some information on Mason. It was easy to fit in with his surroundings and get close to the spies of the towns, using wits and a paycheck to turn tangible trade into secrets.

Werewolves, he learned, were useless. Made of the drug addicts and alcoholics of the group, they could hardly form coherent sentences. Vampires were equally useless, seeing as they hardly listened to other conversations in the taverns and weren't even there in the day. And warlocks were plain annoying, always trying to sell one thing or another to him whilst ignoring his questions.

Now faeries, faeries were delightful to work with because he was constantly reminded of his need to keep learning how to get around people.

They wouldn't lie- they couldn't- but they wouldn't answer directly either. And, though it would normally be a nuisance, he thought of it as a game. A game to see how far they would both go to get their desired payment.

Of course, it mostly ended in a compromise, the amusement and information he could get was worth the wait.

"There was a demon here." Some faerie girl had told him, puffing a cigarette between her lips before lowering it delicately with her hissed out a puff of smoke, making him want to cough, but he restrained. "And he mentioned some kid named Mason."

"Really?" Cole had smiled sweetly, given her an intrigued look, and tilted his head to the side. "Did he say anything about him?"

"That they were working together."

"What-"

"I'm sure that's what he said." She said, bringing the cigarette back to her mouth. "I listened in."

"But it was a demon."

"And?"

"And that doesn't happen."

"Well, it did."

"Shadowhunters don't work with demons, love. That's like a lion helping a lamb."

"So you're calling me a liar?"

Cole paused, realizing he had been caught between an impossible accusation and resignation. He sighed but kept his smiling composure. "No. Of course not. You've been such a help."

"Have I?" She said lazily, giving him a droll look. "I have to go. If you spread that info, you didn't hear it from me."

Cole smirked.

"Of course, love."

**~~ooo~~**

"No. No...Not like that."

"Then like what?"

"Just...Not like that." Cole sighed in frustration, yanking the sword from Steff's hand. He felt like he was teaching an infant. Hissing slightly when he cut his palm on the blade when he pulled it from her, he ignored it immediately and held the hilt in his hand. "Hold the sword like this. You're holding your sword as if you're trying to hold a mace or a club. They're very different."

Positioning it correctly in her palm, afterwards, she gripped the sword and took a breath. He wasn't used to someone being so untrained, especially someone who was his age. He couldn't imagine not knowing every parry, stance, weapon, or blade in his world of Shadowhunting.

"Like this?" She asked, holding it correctly.

He frowned, looking for some flaw in the way she held the sword but couldn't find any.

"Stand up straight." He said instead.

He hated it when she slouched.

**~~ooo~~**

Loki, Cole found, was unreasonably disagreeable.

He was violent, messy, unpredictable, uncoordinated, and disarmed from his wits, many of which Cole hated.

Just to annoy him, Cole would laugh in his face even when he was pushed against the bookshelf and his wrists were pinned at his sides. As long as he didn't show a thing, he knew that he would win.

But then Loki turned out to be Steff's brother, which made him worse than before.

He would hit her.

Scratch her.

Mark her.

And Cole almost contemplated killing him but decided not to because it would 'add fun' around the Institute though the game between him and Loki was hardly one that he wanted to participate. But he didn't want to do anything too bad that Mason would find out about.

Mason.

His longtime enemy now seemed like a mouse in the midst of everything and he felt like the cat. He would be able to get rid of him easily...but with a new enemy, who fought viciously and savagely like a dog might have, he had other priorities. He didn't like to call it his obligation to protect Steff, but he tried to do it anyway. He didn't want any serious harm to come to her...though he doubted he would have cared anyway.

He guessed that it would have just been annoying.

**~~ooo~~**

From her hurt and embarrassed and angry and relieved expression, Cole could tell he had confused Steff.

He enjoyed manipulating people's emotions. It was like playing with a computer program where he could push it as far as he could go until it snapped and she was the perfect candidate.

When he had said that she needed to learn how to protect herself from her brother, she had widened her eyes, looking dejected. "You're not going to help anymore?"

He enjoyed it when she looked worried. "Do you really need me that much?"

"No... I uhh... just need a bit of help..."

When he had answered cruelly, she almost looked as if she were about to cry. He would have been lying if he said it wasn't amusing. Leaning forward to her, he dragged a fingertip under her chin to tilt her head up, smirking. "You're almost acting disappointed. What did you want me to say? That I care? That I love you? That I would hate for something bad to happen for you? Hah." He said mockingly, resisting the urge to laugh aloud.

Steff blinked sadly. "Maybe I do. Maybe I want you to actually care, and not think of me as a weapon or prize."

As if.

That's the only thing he had ever thought of people as and she was no exception.

She was...different.

But not an exception.

He had kissed her after in spite, seeing what she would do. He had done it before and she had been disgusted. Pushed him away. Yelled at him even. Her reaction was no different when he had gone too close to her for comfort and called her 'love' again. She knew that she despised being called that.

But then she told him what she had learned about Mason, seeing as he had ordered her to spy on her, and he was pleased.

He had complimented her.

Called her useful, which was more than what he normally said.

And he offered to get her something to drink and eat. 'Being a good boyfriend', he called his actions, though it was just a mockery of the stupid status they called each other so it wouldn't be suspicious if they were seen together on multiple occasions.

In the end, she hadn't forgiven him. He wasn't looking for forgiveness anyway, just for entertainment, and her confusion was enough. He was complicated.

He enjoyed the sense of complications.

**~~ooo~~**

He almost smiled but wouldn't dare to.

"You're picking up naturally." He complemented breezily, watching her block one of his slashes. Steff smiled confidently.

She was hardly confident, so he judged it as rare. "Thank you."

Just a week before, she had hardly been able to hold a sword correctly, but he was impressed by how hard she had worked and knew that her Shadowhunter side helped her fighting instinct. By all means, she wasn't perfect, but he almost felt forgiving in that fact. At the end of the day, she had completed a successful demon hunt, having only gotten a little scratch on her arm. Even though it was a weak demon, it was a start.

And he couldn't help but be subtly impressed.

**~~ooo~~**

"Just reverse the order." Loki growled, pressing the dagger against Cole's throat.

Cole would have rather died than admitted he was intimidated.

"No. I won't." Cole growled before remembering to maintain his look of superiority. "It's not my fault that I got to her first."

"Look. You don't want to get on my bad side." Loki snapped, drawing blood. "Steff is _mine_."

"Good Raziel, Loki. No need to be so possessive. After all, relationships like that are categorized as incest. And that's gross." Cole said smugly, trying to piss him off. He loved toying with people's tempers. It gave him sick satisfaction, but it was fun all the same.

**~~ooo~~**

One.

Cole whispered a name of the angels, watching his seraph blade light up. He loved the feel of the blade against his palm, on his fingers, pulsing as if it were alive. And while he preferred to fight with logic and blackmail and pawns, Shadowhunting and demon slaying were equally exhilarating. And weapons were his game pieces. Kind of like how Steff was his weapon. She was a pet for him and he would determine how to use her.

Two.

The demon was large. He couldn't imagine what Steff had felt when she had been cursed at only twelve, but he pushed away his sudden thoughts of foreign empathy as he went to fight. Skidding across the pavement and slick ichor, he hissed as he got the burning acid on his hand, but pushed the pain away. As usual.

Three.

He shoved the seraph blade up into the demon's neck, watching it screech in catlike wails as it crumpled to it's feet. It was satisfying to watch it convulse once, twice, three times until it's head fell lifelessly on the ground and it started to fade and disintegrate on the concrete alley. Briefly, Cole wished everything was as simple as demon hunts where he could just fight and it would be a clear win.

But it wasn't and he was left trying to find some clever way to outsmart Mason and escape Loki's anger.

After all, he couldn't just kill them.

Or could he?

**~~ooo~~**

"Just the person I was looking for."

"Good Raziel, people. Does everyone just want me today? What do you need?"

"I wanted to talk to you about Stephanie."

Cole raised his eyes to look at Mason, intrigued at his sudden interest in the girl who was posing as his 'girlfriend'. Averting his eyes, he tried to look uninterested. "Oh. Her? What?"

"I've heard some quite concerning things about a curse, and the fact that you're using her," Mason said, looking worried, though Cole knew it was fake. "I wonder what would happen if the Clave found out about it?"

"Of course I'm not using her. I put my order on her so it protects her from her brother." Cole hid his surprise. How the hell did Mason know about the curse?

"But the question is, what have you been ordering her to do?" Mason asked with a smirk.

"Why does it concern you?"

"Anything going on at the Institute concerns me. And I've been waiting for the right opportunity to get rid of you." Mason said with a smug smile. Cole swore he could have killed him right then and there if he had the weapons.

"If you must know... She begs for me to protect her, to not remove the curse... I think I've done her a favour."

"If I was her I certainly wouldn't trust you. But I don't care about that. It's what you're up to that concerns me."

"Well, she's my girlfriend." Cole winced at the very word 'girlfriend'. "I want to protect her. Even if it means using an order on her."

"Cut the lies, Cole. I know what you're really like. And you're in a lot more danger than you realize.

"What do you want me to say? That I'm using her? That I'm doing her wrong? Because I'm not." He lied angrily, starting to scowl, his usually firm temper falling. "In fact, she doesn't mind the order that I have on her because it protects her from her brother."

"I doubt you would be quite so convincing if the Clave used the Mortal Sword on you, or got Dominic to read your mind. Then all your dirty little secrets would come out. You see, Cole, because of the concern I've voiced about you, the Clave has set a trial to examine your actions, especially after your past mishaps at the Academy. It could go one of two ways. I could go to the trial and tell them about this, and they could interrogate you, or you could do as I request, and I'll make up some nice little story and say that you're fine." Mason looked grossly smug and arrogant. "Does that sound fair?"

Cole shook his head in disbelief.

He felt like laughing in anger at his own stupid, stupid flaws.

**~~ooo~~**

He had spent most of his time suckering up to some faerie when he next visited the Downworlder Towns.

He could have paid, but money wasn't what the faerie wanted.

So he spent most of his time trying to use patient charm and less than proper techniques to try to get her to waver the price, which amounted to more artifacts, magic ingredients and an array of other bits of things that he would ever have,

After all, poison was expensive.

**~~ooo~~**

Whenever he made a mistake, he tried to not dwell on it for long.

_It was part of the past_, he would say. _It doesn't matter now._

But it did.

When Evande had run up to him and asked for help, Cole couldn't deny. He never referred to his past much once he came to the Institute, but some things stuck. And that was, strangely, his like for kids. He had a cousin near Evande's age, Alexander, who hated having such a cliche Shadowhunter name, but accepted it nonetheless. Alexander had been twelve, almost thirteen, and deaf.

That's why his training had been so late and Cole grew accustomed to reading hands. In no way did he know sign language, but a simple fidget and a gesture could say everything. When break had come every year during Cole's semesters at the Academy, he found himself visiting the Institute his cousin and distant third aunt were at. They were the closest thing he had to family, but honestly, he didn't care about blood relation.

So he trained.

And he helped train Alexander but with his lack of communication, Cole couldn't help level out his weakness and knew he would be imperfect. Flawed. And he hated that.

So he wasn't sad when his cousin had been killed on his first hunt. Even if he was sad, he wasn't sure if he would be able to identify what he was feeling. He hadn't been with him, anyway. Cole had given up and gone to study instead. It was only later he learned that the demon his cousin had tried to fight had thrown him against the pavement and shattered his spine.

He knew he wasn't sad.

Disappointed, maybe.

But not sad.

And he certainly didn't cry.

He never even entertained the thought, for Shadowhunters never cried and he certainly never did. He never had any reason to, anyway. _Everyone dies_, he would say. And he believed it because he knew it to be true so he was never really sad over little losses like that had been.

But Evande had reminded him of his cousin and he took to him quickly.

It reminded him that even flaws could be entertaining things.

Things that could be forgiven.

It was funny how a short, pyromaniac, crazy, sadistic little kid could teach him that.

**~~ooo~~**

The first thing he remembered was pain in his hand as he set his hand on a dagger.

The last thing he remembered was the taste of blood in his mouth.

**~~ooo~~**

"I don't need you anymore."

"But...everything I've done for you...Cole-"

"Stephanie, love. I don't need you. So leave me alone."

"I'm not even going to testify against you in the trial. You owe me this."

He scowled. "I don't owe you anything."

In spite, he let her go.

He thought she would have been grateful.

But she begged for him to stay. For him to not recall the protective orders over her. But he said no. It did baffle him, though, that she wanted him to keep up with his act, if only she could get some protection from her brother.

He wasn't sure how to feel about her.

He never thought that she'd be the confusing type, but she was complicated.

She'd said how she really knew him. She said how she was the only one that knew his real personality. She was the only one who couldn't turn on him. And perhaps it was her willingness to be 'nice' and 'complying' that worried him. He hated it when he didn't understand something, but he would never ask for clarity. He was too proud, too arrogant and naive to try to delve deeper.

So he denied her claims even though he knew she was right.

**~~ooo~~**

It was the first time in a long time that he was scared.

Truly scared.

The dagger he had put his hand on had been poisoned, he knew. After all, he had planned to use it on Mason.

And he hated the long mark that scarred across his palm that bled profusely the first couple days after he had gotten it. It hurt in a deep throb, the kind that gave him headaches and he found himself getting sick. At first, it was just the headaches. But then it was the nosebleeds.

He hated the taste of blood in his mouth when it spilled down to the floor and onto his hands and onto his clothes. He hated the feel of blood running down his throat as he swallowed and coughing it up with a taste of chemicals in the background. It tasted sweet and bitter and disgusted him completely. He guessed it was just the taste of the poison.

Steff asked him what was wrong and if he was okay and if his hand hurt and why he got a nosebleed and why he had a bandage around his hand but he could never find the courage or find a way to say what happened.

He almost wanted to tell her.

He almost wanted to trust her.

She was the closest thing he had to a friend.

But she wasn't a friend, he reminded himself, and he didn't say a word.

After all, it had always been in his nature to hide the mistakes, if you couldn't fix them.

Hide true emotions behind a mask.

And push them away until they're not there at all.

**~~ooo~~**

It was only just recently after agreeing to the trial that he found out he would have to use the Mortal Sword.

Willing to make sacrifices, he only knew one way to cheat the system.

But it required giving up one of the things he cherished most.

**~~ooo~~**

Imperfections.

They were showing through. He knew it. He used to always hide them so well but they were as plain as the marks on his hand on the ones on Steff's arms except he was the one to inflict his own wounds. Though he wanted to back out he realized that thorns of mistakes and quicksand of lies weren't as easy to escape as he thought and he was afraid.

Because he knew he couldn't win and no amount of wits or money would buy him out and that made him worry. And in a fragile population, people's problems pop up too but he didn't understand that he had lost. Because he wasn't dead yet.

Yet.

And that's what he hoped in but it was a dead kind of hope because in a world where you can't sleep, you can't dream and then the very things that are your mask are unreachable. Dreams were unreachable. And he tried to dream and hope he would wake up and everything would be fine but when he woke, there was only a window and a door and an option. He didn't know if he had the courage to take the option, though.

Since not being a Shadowhunter would kill him.

But not being a Shadowhunter would save him.

And he knew of a werewolf who would do it for him.

A clean bite and everything he had hoped for became possible. And even though werewolves were flawed in so many more ways, he wanted to live. It was human instinct and he hated his instinct for survival but this chance of being a werewolf meant he couldn't be put under the Mortal Sword.

It meant he could lie.

It meant he could live.

It meant he could leave.

And that was his hope.

And he liked hope.

**~~ooo~~**

He had almost forgotten about Loki until he ran into him at a bar.

Contemplating his two options, Cole had hoped for quiet.

He had forgotten that not all hopes and wishes were granted.

In the end, he got away with only a few marks.

It disgusted him.

**~~ooo~~**

Angel blood, Cole noted, was what made Shadowhunters special.

Demon blood, he also noted, was what made faeries special.

Faeries were near flawless whereas mortal Shadowhunters remained weak and Cole thought of it as quite an inconvenience.

He never could find how demons and angels were different.

**~~ooo~~**

Layla had been hesitant to complete the deal.

"Are you sure you want this?" She asked, knowing that she might not be able to stop herself once she Changed.

Cole nodded, wanting to do anything to ensure he wasn't convicted guilty at the trial. "Absolutely."

**~~ooo~~**

He had killed his last demon behind the Pandemonium.

Cole had almost envied its power.

**~~ooo~~**

At first, it felt like fire.

**~~ooo~~**

Cole wasn't sure what was worse.

One: the fact that he was a werewolf now. Two: the impending trial that was coming forth that he hardly had a chance at winning. Or three: he was slowly dying due to a deadly slow acting poison coursing through his very veins.

He never really thought that he would physically manage screw up his life to the magnitude as he had in the span of seventeen years, but he found it ironic that, for as long as he had searched to get rid of his flaws, he got himself into a pit of them. But he didn't care anymore; how could he when he knew he was going to die anyway and nothing he did would change a thing.

He didn't have any family.

No one he would miss.

No one he would be missed by.

It was a funny little thing. He almost laughed. In a world so, so godless. so thoughtless, he didn't understand how everyone cherished such mortal relationships. Steff had often accused him of being shallow, but he couldn't help it if he truly believed it. She had once said that she pitied him, but he didn't want her pity. He didn't want anyone's pity because he never thought that whatever he felt was a hindrance.

But he was tired of hiding behind masks.

He wasn't really sure who he was anymore, though.

More scared of showing every flaw that he had meticulously constructed and covered, he didn't care for anyone knowing who he actually was. Not that he knew anyway.

Games, he remembered, were easy.

But when he had met his match, he found it difficult to accept the fact that he had lost. He had never really lost before. Not when it came to convincing Steff or outsmarting Loki. People who were smart didn't need help. He convinced himself that he had the world in his hands before he realized that he had been the hand that the world had been playing. A mere card in a deck. And he was afraid that all his fighting had been in vain. He soon found that Steff was right. He needed her.

But he was too afraid to admit defeat.

And he was too afraid to face his flaws.

And he was too afraid to take his mask off.

After all, he didn't know if people would see him as the demon he thought himself to be.

The demon he knew himself to be.

**~~ooo~~**

**I kind of gave up...**

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH WEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLZZZZZZZZ. I know I got a ton of stuff wrong and I left out a shit-load of stuff but I just can't brain. Like seriously.**

**Love, Love.**


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